


not your pretty woman

by troubleseeker



Series: kinktober 2018 [27]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Against a Wall, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester/Top Sam Winchester, Dark, Dean in Shorts, Dean is not Happy, Degradation, Forced Drinking, Gun play, Kinktober 2018, M/M, Rape, Sam Campbell - Freeform, Scared Dean, Security guard Benny, Stalking, Trauma, Unwanted groping, Voyeurism, bareback, club owner Chuck, dancer Charlie, full on, gogo dancer dean, kingpin Sam, mob boss Sam, non-con, possible non-consensual drug use, so they're not related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-05 01:20:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16800853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubleseeker/pseuds/troubleseeker
Summary: kinktober day 27 - Exhibitionism/Voyeurism | Degradation | Gun Play | Against a wallDean is a gogo-dancer in Chuck's club along with Charlie and several others. He loves his job and looks forward to each evening spent on a stage bouncing to the latest tracks to entertain the masses. Until Sam Campbell shows up. New local drug kingpin, obsessed with Dean, and not a big fan of the word 'no'. After a couple of weeks where he managed to dance Sam free, the creepy kid shows up again, and calls Dean up into the VIP area for a more private experience.





	not your pretty woman

**Author's Note:**

> kinktober lives on, like a festive zombie that feeds on tears and desperation ... I'm almost there folks, so close.

Muted by concrete and plywood, the base thumped ever present in the background as Dean mulled over eyeshadow and eyeliners. Compared to most people his makeup collection was extreme, but then their tips probably didn’t go up exponentially when their makeup matched their outfit. 

On that note, most people probably didn’t have as many pairs of hotpants and crop tops as he did.

Tonight was rave night. Drum and bass, electro, funk, and lots and lots of neon colours. 

Green brought out his eyes, yellow for accents. Dean fumbled with a circle stencil, letting his eyeshadow fade out into ever smaller circles. He turned his head, checking the colours from every angle before picking up liquid eyeliner. Black around his eyes - people always commented on them, so he made them pop - and then mascara for days. For an extra artistic touch, he added green and black dots overtop the eyeshadow; concentrated around his eyes and fading artistically. It made him look a bit like a bird … if one that regularly dined on psychedelics. 

“Looking good there Winchester.”

Dean hummed, ignoring Charlie to concentrate on the rhinestones he was sticking onto his forehead instead.

“Gonna shine bright like a diamond?”

“Shut up Bradburry. ‘M concentrating.”

Charlie hummed, dropping her own makeup kit in front of the next mirror. 

“The line is already around the building, dude. I’m gonna get so many tips.”

Dean laughed. “Not if I steal them all first!”

Lipstick done, Dean leaned over to hug his best friend. Charlie didn’t pause putting on her own colourful mask; heavy on gold and green.

“You have a fine ass, Dean, but I have glittery gold booty shorts and a top that barely covers anything. That money is all mine.”

Dean gasped, dropping his bathrobe to reveal sequin neon-green shorts that could be mistaken for underwear, and a bare chest save for some black straps. 

“What say you now, your highness?”

He struck a pose, dramatically running a hand up his thigh and over his ass to reveal colour changing sequins. Green  _ and _ gold. 

“I’m going to dance so hard you go bankrupt, Charlie.”

One of the other dancers laughed, and Dean sashayed over to his station again, picking out green and yellow neon body paint. It glowed under the black lights, and added some playfulness. Like he’d been assaulted by the neon-people only to stumble into a club to dance. 

“Ten minutes!”

A chorus of  _ okay _ s called back towards the manager, and Dean pulled on his white trainers. Finishing his look by slipping a couple of sweatbands around his thigh and arms. People needed  _ somewhere  _ to leave their tips, and his shorts only had so much room.

“I’m on pole three, that’s prime real estate and you know it.”

Dean wiped his hands on a rag, nodding. Close to the bar, close to the speakers.

“I’m on stage four.” 

“Not bad.”

“Five minutes!”

People were doing their last stretches, neon colours mulling around.

“Dean?”

Chuck materialised out of the mess of neon spandex, clutching his tablet, and looking anxious enough to make Dean pause.

“Yeah, Chuck? Whats’up buddy? Is someone twisting your elbow to give them my spot? Cause I’ll twist their arm right back.”

There wasn’t a whole lot of competition between the club’s dancers, but some spots got more traffic, ergo more tips. Chuck shook his head, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“No, Dean. I’m sorry. It’s just that. Uh… You know.”

Dean’s smile faltered. 

“He’s here again, isn’t he?”

Chuck nodded, holding out the list of VIP’s. **_Sam Campbell_** nice and large at the very top of the screen to taunt him. Dean passed the tablet back over.

“Has he asked for me?”

“No, not y_”

“All right people! Let’s rock this place tonight!”

Charlie squeezed Dean’s shoulder in sympathy as the group gave a little cheer before filing out into the club. Pretty much everyone here knew Dean was getting harrassed by the local kingpin, but no one could really help him. Not even Chuck.

“Go on, Charlie. I’ll be right out.” Dean pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d gone three whole weeks without Sam turning up, and he’d thought that that had been it. A couple of months of dirty glances, near misses, leering promises, and excessive tips and then he’d gotten bored or something. But now he was back. 

“He hasn’t asked for you.” Chuck repeated, the  _ yet _ heavily implied. Sam always waited a bit before he called Dean up to the private box. Probably watched him dance first. Like a creep.

“Why can’t he just go get his rocks off in a stripclub like normal drugdealers?”

Chuck’s fingers were restless, creeping around the edge of the tablet like it was squirming in his grasp. No one liked it when Sam turned up. The kid - drug empire or not, there was no way he was over 24 - didn’t really do anything wrong and spent tons of money, but it brought in too many drug users and the last thing anyone needed was a gang war kicking off on the dancefloor. 

“Fuck it. I’m going out there anyway. Who knows, maybe he won’t hit on me.”

Chuck smiled encouragingly, nodding at the manager waving at them from the door.

“I’m going to go out there, Chuck. And I’m going to dance. And I’m not even going to think about him.”

“Yeah!”

Dean marched out of the dressing room, breaking into a jog to keep up with the group; they had to be in place before the doors opened. Ready to entertain the masses, earn some tips, and not think about Sam fucking Campbell.

Except. Dean did think about him.

Even as he smiled and danced, he thought about those cold eyes. 

What if he was already watching? The VIP area was roped off, but Dean knew it wasn’t empty. Servers had been bringing up bottles, disappearing into the dark privacy to return minutes later with empty trays. 

Feeding the beast.

Someone yelled something at him, and Dean turned to dance along with the enthusiastic stranger. The music was too loud here for anyone to hold a conversation, but he’d learned to read body language instead. That, and eyes. People tended to look at the part of him they liked best, and if you knew how to dance to enhance that particular bit it ended with another dollar in your hands.

It had been a good night so far. 

No Sam. 

Yet.

Bills in his pockets, his socks, and his sweatbands. Alcohol and music made people generous.

Maybe Sam really wasn’t interested in him anymore. And while it would take longer to make rent, he wouldn’t miss the cash.

A girl was staring at his ass, transfixed, and Dean turned to give her a better view. Hands running up and down his cheeks to show off the fancy fabric as he moved to the beat. She had a colourful led-halo on her head that didn’t match with her fairy wings, and was probably high on something other than life, but at some point she held out a bill and Dean smiled at her as he took it. 

Yeah. Life without Sam would be just fine. He’d been living Sam-free for most of it after all.

Unless … Sam’s greedy eye had fallen on someone else. No way did Dean wish that kind of attention on any of the other dancers.

He looked over top the crowd to the new guy. Kevin. Young and full of vigor to make up for his distinct lack of experience in the ways of life. Kid was dancing away in one of the cages above the stage, and if Sam got his claws in impressionable meat like that … 

Dean started when a hand tapped his ankle twice. In the noise of the club, it was the only way to really get his attention. 

It was a server, a replacement dancer already standing by behind her, gesturing for him to get down.

So much for a Sam free life then. Dean nodded, waved a toothy goodby to the people he’d been dancing with and climbed off the stage like nothing was at all wrong. Just a standard change of scenery. He high-fived the girl taking his place and followed the server behind the bar and into the hallway. The door shutting most of the music away behind them and giving Dean a chance to drop the now fake smile.

“They want you up in the VIP area.”

Dean sighed. He’d guessed, but still...

“Campbell?”

“Yep. You need a second to go freshen up?”

She was looking at her phone, but Dean knew what it meant.  _ Are you going to run out the back? _

“Nah, I can hold it.”

The girl put her phone back into her apron, nodding. Dean could see the relief in her eyes. No one wanted to have to walk up to a VIP to say their request had been denied. Especially when that VIP was Sam.

“He_ uh. He wanted you to wear these.”

Dean’s heart sank, already picturing some sort of fetish getup to appear out of her apron’s pocket, but it was just a pair of cat ears. Twinkling led’s on a headband. 

Harmless.

He took the accessory with a grimace. Sure, it went with the night’s theme. Sure it looked like anything else he’d seen girate past him in the club.  _ Sure  _ he’d have been happy to wear it if he’d picked it out  _ himself _ .

But Sam wanted him to wear them, which made them dirty somehow.

Dean slid them onto his head, leaning over to check them in a lipstick stained mirror. Yeah, ok. It would do.

“Thanks.”

He didn’t recognise her. Not that he knew everyone on staff, especially the bartenders. But she knew who Sam was, and that was enough. Dean nodded, turning back to the door with a sigh.

“VIP here I come.”

The music rolled over him again, and Dean plastered his smiled back onto his face as he made his way to the little velvet clad staircase and it’s tacky red rope. Benny nodded at him, holding the flimsy barrier aside for him to walk in and pointing towards the darkest corner.

The VIP area was well designed. 

Dark enough that the people on the dancefloor couldn’t try to peek in. Close enough to the dj booth to see who was turning. A great view into the dancefloor with its bright lights and mass of bodies.

Far enough from the speakers that people could have a real conversation.

Built to accommodate several groups of VIPs, there were couches set around smaller tables. Each with a private stage complete with lighting in case the guests wanted to dance, or invite one of the club’s dancers up to entertain them instead.

Right at the back. In the best spot to look out into the club. In the best fuckign seat of the house, sat Sam Campbell like a spider in its web … and Dean walked right up to him. 

“Hey there folks, having a good night tonight?”

Dancing for VIPs was different than just getting on a stage. You had to interact, play on what the guests wanted.

Some liked to talk, some liked to dance alongside you. And some liked to just sit and watch.

The stage had a pole built in to it, but not many of the dancers here knew how to use it. This wasn’t a stripcub. Still, it gave the VIP area a more … VIP vibe.

Sam pointed at the stage, his whole body taking over the couch opposite the table. Arms spreading out across the back and legs splayed wide. Dean could see that he’d been drinking. The kid’s muscles were toned under his suit, but they were loose and relaxed. If the three empty champagne bottles and the empty vodka bottles had been shared equally amongst Sam’s guests and security, he might not be too drunk just yet.

“It’s about to get better.”

Dean swallowed. He wasn’t a small guy, but Sam’s gaze made him feel like a mouse. He hopped onto the raised platform, letting the beat guide him into the same dance moves as before. And this time he didn’t even need to imagine eyes on him, he could see Sam stare at him. See him drain a champagne flute and lick his lips.

“Beel.”

Dean tried not to listen as Sam whispered to the fridge that responded to the call. Tried not to flinch when the hump of a man moved towards and then past him.

“You’re on edge today, Dean.”

Sam certainly wasn’t. The kid poured the last of the fourth bottle of champagne into his glass with a flourish, and Dean weighed his options. Sam didn’t like it when people lied to him, and even little white lies had him snarling.

“Bit nervous, yeah. VIP area, you know?”

Sam huffed, taking a dainty sip before holding the glass to the lights.

“No need to be nervous, baby. You look good.”

Sam motioned towards his own head one handed, and Dean mimicked the gesture; tracing the ears. 

“And you’ve danced here before. For me. Have I  _ ever _ given you a reason to be nervous around me?”

Dean could feel the net closing in around him. Telling the truth might upset Sam, but a lie would certainly do that. He was saved by the bell, or the Beel at least. The guy was carrying a tray full of shots, and Sam motioned for him to get closer.

“Here. these should help you chill. Beel, help him sit down.”

Beel’s hand was heavy in the small of his back, steering Dean towards the couch; he sat down gingerly; the pleather cold against his bare legs.

“Not meant to drink on the job, man.”

Sam lifted a dinky glass to his lips, and Dean opened up. He didn’t even know what he was drinking till it was inside his mouth; apple pie vodka.

“There we go.” Sam cooed, offering a second glass when Dean swallowed. “Got you your favourite.”

Dean cursed the day he’d first danced for Sam. He hadn’t known how dangerous the kid was back then; hadn’t known who he was at all. Clients talked, and the dancers talked back. He’d talked too much, and Sam had exploited it.

Dean eyed the tray, there were plenty of shots left.

“Thanks.”

Sam tossed the empty glass towards one of the women sitting on his other side. Arm candy or maybe one of his generals. Sam was pretty equal opportunity when it came to his gang.

“Get me another bottle.”

Dean didn’t know how she could sit next to Sam, roll her eyes like that at Sam, and push at Sam’s shoulders like that without shaking at the knees. The woman was completely at ease, chucking the glass on the tray before getting up.

“Sure thing Sammy boy, need anything else while I’m out?”

“Check on the boys.”

She nodded, smirking at Dean when he caught her eyes. 

“Alone at last.”

He could feel the alcohol already, and when Sam curled a hand around his thigh - God it was big - Dean had the vivid image of Beel dropping pills into the shots. What if Sam drugged him? Desperate to stay away from his fears, Dean raised his eyebrows and pointed at the group of people in Sam’s entourage still milling about.

“Oh don’t mind them, Dean. Pretend they’re not here.”

It was an order. Dean nodded, keeping his eyes on Sam’s.

“Kay.”

“I missed you, you know?”

He had no way to know if Sam was being sincere, or if that kind of attachment to a dancer - or anyone, really - was very very dangerous.

“You did?”

Sam hummed, picking a shot off the tray and handing it to Dean. He took it, throwing it back in the hopes that it would help keep his leg from bouncing off beat.

“Sure did. I had to go out of town for business, see.” 

Dean nodded like a fucking lunatic; bobble headed and shivering. Dealing drugs and expanding your illegal empire probably took you to all sorts of interesting places he never wanted to see.

“But I’m back now.” Sam pushed another shot towards Dean’s face, batting Dean’s hand out of the way when he tried to take it himself. “Let me, Dean.” 

He knew his heart was hammering in his chest, Sam was leaning in. Closer than he usually got. More insistent than he usually was. Dean let him feed him the shot. Let him wipe a stray drop of alcohol off his lips too.

He swallowed around the burn of the alcohol when Sam stuck the damp finger into his own mouth with eyes rolling back in pleasure. Dean doubted it was because he liked apple pie vodka.

“Love it when you let me take care of you, baby.”

There was nowhere to run, and dressed as he was … there was no way to hide. What was he gonna do? Shout out for Benny to come save his ass? 

Sure, security would show up, and Sam might not shoot - or have his minions shoot - the entire place up, but then what? How would he ever walk down the street knowing there was a target painted on his back? 

No one said no to Sam Campbell. No one.

“Wanna take care of you all the time.”

Dean made himself laugh. “I’m not a kid. I can take care of myself, dude.”

There was something cold in Sam’s eyes. Dean was treading on thin ice; too close to saying no.

“I don’t doubt that, Dean. You’re a big boy. You buy groceries. You pay your rent.”

It wasn’t condescending, which meant Sam meant something else.

“But it’s easier to do that when I’m here to help you, isn’t it?”

God, Dean wished he was back on the dancefloor. There was something so simple of just moving to the beat. It was a lot harder to think when you were stupid on adrenaline and booze. 

“I mean, “ Sam continued, undeterred by Dean’s lack of reaction. “You were late three months in a row before I spotted your pretty ass.”

Dean went cold. Sam knew where he lived. Sam didn’t just know where he lived … Sam knew who he paid rent to. Sam had talked to his landlord … maybe even had him in his pocket. Crowley had always been shady, but now.

“That’s where most of your paycheck goes, isn’t it?” Dean went colder still when Sam slid right up to his side, arm possessive around his shoulder and another shot at the ready; he was going to regret a lot of things in the morning, but Dean drank. “A lot of money for a dumpy place like that, don’t you think?”

“It’s alright?” Dean offered weakly. Sam was right though. It was a small one bedroom apartment with thin walls and a loud upstair neighbours, but it was  _ his _ . He didn’t even care that the landlord charged too much.

“I could give you so much better.”

Sam’s teeth were right next to his ears, reminding Dean of an animal ready to strike. 

“I’ve got a couple of places. Set you up nice and comfortable.”

Another shot, Dean couldn’t remember how many he’d had so far.

“Just imagine not having to pay your way through life. All the food and drink you want. A better mattress.” Sam huffed, even as Dean figured out something was wrong … more wrong. “Not that that’s so hard. It’s a miracle you can move the way you do sleeping on something that lumpy.”

Dean wanted to jump up. Wanted to get stand taller than Sam and spit his outrage for all to see. 

“You’ve been in my room?” He breathed instead, probably barely audible above the music; barely heard it himself with the way this new nugget of knowledge had stolen his breath. Sam wasn’t just watching him dance. Sam was  _ watching _ him. Sam knew where he lived. Where he worked. Where he shopped for groceries. Where he  _ slept _ .

“Don’t look at me like that, babe. Just to check up on you, make sure you didn’t need anything.”

The fucker made it all sound so normal. Like  _ charity _ . 

“And you do. You need me. My help. My money.”

Dean didn’t resist Sam thumbing at his mouth, swallowed another shot like it was water.

“I wanna take all your worries away, Dean. Let me.”

Sam’s hand palmed his thigh again, sliding up without any hesitation. Dean only reacted when he felt Sam grope him, thumb flirting with the edge of his shorts; dipping into the the unseen. He grabbed for Sam’s hands, pushing himself away; back. 

Sam frowned, and Dean had to find a reason for what he’d just done. One Sam would care about.

“I_ Uh_ the others!”

Sam looked up, like he’d forgotten he had several bodyguards standing around.

“You afraid they’ll watch, baby?”

Sam seemed amused, so Dean went with it; nodding decisively. 

“You dance in front of hundreds of people in your underwear.”

Dean swallowed, Sam really did think nothing of him. A pretty toy to fawn over.

“That’s dancing.”

Sam was going way further than he’d ever gone before, and not knowing how much further he’d be going was making Dean’s nerves stand on end. Any excuse to put  _ any _ space between them would be used. Sam didn’t seem angry, leaning back to look at Dean’s glare as if he was adorable. 

“My beautiful boy, all shy.”

Dean blinked, this wasn’t going the way he wanted. He tried to think of something to say, but Sam moved first. One hand in the small of Dean’s back, the other clamped tight around his arm, he steered Dean off of the couch and towards the side exit. 

He knew what was happening, but Dean couldn’t think of anything to do. Was this where he called out for Benny? Was this where he put of some sort of token struggle?

The door pushed open into a small corridor that Dean knew led to another door and then the alley at the back of the club. An easy way for high profile guests to make an unseen exit when there was too much attention at the front end. 

Sam pushed him against the wall, and Dean was more aware of how very very alone he was with Sam right now than the cold plaster against his naked skin. Sam’s voice was louder with almost all of the music cut off; just that eternal base thumping in the background.

“All alone now, baby.”

Dean whimpered. He knew there was an exit close by, and fewer obstacles between him and it with Sam’s goons left in the club. But the one obstacle was too much for him already. Sam knew where he lived. Sam had been  _ inside _ his home. And even if that had been a bluff, he knew Sam was bullheaded enough to actually barge in.

He let Sam paw at him. Let him growl against his neck. Let him kiss the hollow behind his ear and lick across the shell of it.

Sam didn’t mind his inaction, moving Dean’s limbs where he wanted them like he was playing with a doll.

The first slide of fingers under his waistband had shivers running up Dean’s spine, but he didn’t react; didn’t fight. Maybe if Sam got it out of his system he’d leave him be.

What was one last night of humiliation if it bought him freedom?

“Love your ass, Dean. It’s a fucking work of art.”

The shorts gave easily under Sam’s hands, stretching slowly over the curve of his ass. 

“You’re being so good for me, Dean. So good.”

Dean nodded against Sam’s shoulder. Yeah. He was being good.

“Turn around, babe. Let me see you.”

Chin trembling, Dean swivelled within the cage of Sam’s arms. Raising his arms and planting his hands against the wall when Sam moved them there. He’d never felt this naked in his entire life.

Sam rutted against him, grinding in time with the far away beat.

“Feel that, Dean?”

Sam moved, and Dean could feel something. Sure, Sam’s dick was hard to miss, but there was something else. Sam moved again, and this time he could definitely feel it. Sam’s was packing. He grew very, very still.

“Aaah. Yeah. You didn’t think I’d go anywhere without protection, did you?”

Dean shook his head. Of course not. It made sense for Sam to be armed, he just hadn’t thought too much about it. He’d been cooperating just fine, there was absolutely no need for any weapons to enter the proceedings.

“Wanna see it?”

No. Dean did not need to see it. But no one said no to Sam, so he shrugged instead. Sam took it as a yes, pulling a very shiny pearl handled gun out of its holster. 

“It’s a Taurus.” 

The kid sounded very proud of the thing, so dean nodded. Was he meant to say something?

“It’s, uh_ very pretty.”

“Most of the people who see it don’t see anything else, you know.”

Dean swallowed, feeling the last of the colour drain from his face; only the neon-paint to make him look alive. That was a threat if he’d ever heard one. 

“Oh don’t worry.” Sam plastered himself against Dean’s back; evelopping him. He could probably feel him tremble in fear. “I wouldn’t shoot you. You’ve been such a good boy.”

A.k.a. You stand here all pretty and let me fuck you, or I kneecap you. Dean bit back a whimper, nodding instead. His forehead bounded off the wall, and he just left it there. Sam would do what he wanted.

Sam’s fingers slid between his cheeks, and Dean tried to stop thinking. The last made more difficult when Sam’s gun pressed against his back. 

“You ever been fucked before?”

Dean nodded. He’d had sex with guys before, and right now he thanked his lucky stars that he had. Taking a dick wasn’t as easy as they made it look in porn, and if he’d had to go through  _ this _ while still green he’d have died.

“You ever been fucked against a wall?”

Dean nodded again, not sure what Sam was going for. Would he be pissed he wasn’t the first guy Dean had bent over for? Or would he think Dean was an even easier target now? An easy lay?

The gun pressed harder, and Dean pretty much wet himself. He’d made Sam mad. Sam was pissed off and now he was going to get shot. Oh fuck. Oh fuck_

“Bet you’ve never been fucked while someone held a gun to you though. Am I right?”

Dean shook his head, shocked to find the wall wet with his tears when he moved. Why on fucking earth would he have been fucked while a gun was pointed at him? Why would  _ anyone _ ?

“I’ve been told it’s a rush. Adrenaline ‘n shit.”

Sam’s fingers were still prodding at his ass, and Dean hoped to God Sam wouldn’t try to take him dry. He said a silent prayer when the fingers retreated and came back slick. He didn’t know what Sam was using, and no way was he going to open his stupid mouth to ask. 

He tried to relax, honest to fuck he tried. But there was only so much control he had over his ass when there was a fucking gun pointed at him. He was a dancer for Christ’s sake. He danced on stage and smiled for people. 

“Fuck you’re going to be tight.”

What if he clenched harder and Sam couldn’t get in? Would Benny come running after he heard the shots? Would anyone even hear the gun over the noise of the club?

Would the papers say he was a prostitute? A deal gone wrong? 

Sam added another finger, scissoring him open. Determined and strong, and Dean’s ass yielded. 

“There we go. Open wide for me. I’ll fill you right up.”

This was fucked up. So. So fucked up. How was he ever going to come back from this? How could he ever get back on a stage after this? He’d need another job. Fuck. He’d have to move. Get as far away from the club and Sam as he could. Sell all his stuff and straight up ship his ass across the country.

“Anyone ever take you bare, Dean?”

Dean almost laughed. Cause of course it could get worse. Not only was he going to be raped in the back of the club, he was going to catch a couple of std’s while it happened. 

“No.”

Sam growled, and bit at Dean’s neck.

“You’ve got to tell me the truth, Dean. Cause I’m clean, you see. Always get myself tested. If I catch something from your fine ass I’m going to be very, very upset.” Sam paused to nuzzle Dean’s ear, fingers never stopping their conquest. “So I’ll ask again. And you’re going to tell me the truth. Anyone ever take you bare?”

He had no way to know if Sam was telling the truth, but Sam was good at catching lies. Too good. Dean shook his head.

“No. Never.”

“Mmmmmm.” Sam hummed his satisfaction as he thrust a third finger inside Dean’s hole. “Been saving yourself for me.”

Sam was insane. Sam was insane, and he was also stronger, and richer, and more powerful in every way Dean could imagine. 

“I’ve been dreaming about this, you know?”

Dean shook his head. 

“Oh yeah. Every single time I watch you dance, baby. Imagine that tight ass on my dick. Those legs around my waist. Those lips sucking me down.”

Sam’s fingers pulled back, and for one bright second Dean imagined turning around and kneeing Sam in the crotch. Thought about running for the door and never slowing down. And then Sam pushed into him. 

The kid was proportional. His dick splitting Dean in two as his own heartbeat drowned out the speakers that might as well have been miles away. 

Sam didn’t waste a second to let him get used to the intrusion. Quick rutting thrusts pushing him deep, deeper, deepest. Until Dean had nowhere to go but his tiptoes, and even that was a dead end. 

“Fucking tight, Dean. So good.”

Lube slick fingers ran through his hair like he was an especially smart dog.

“Fucking made for me, for this.”

Fight or flight not an option, Dean’s body was stuck on freeze. Eyes wide, mouth open on harsh panting breaths, he clung to the wall. 

Sam moved, one hand curling around Dean’s waist, the other still holding the Taurus against the small of his back. The muzzle moved around his back as Sam thrust into him. Rapid, needy … greedy. 

Dean wouldn’t have wanted the other man to pay attention to him. He didn’t want an orgasm from Sam. Didn’t want him to draw this out. He wanted it over. 

The second it was over he could start pretending it hadn’t  _ ever _ happened.

But it still stung. Sam didn’t care for him  _ at all _ . Just a place to dip his dick. A pretty face. A nice ass. Maybe his dance moves. But not  _ him _ . 

Sam grunted as he got closer, and Dean couldn’t see if the lunatic had his finger on the trigger, but please God fuck let him not be that insane.

It didn’t take long for Sam to get where he wanted to go. Thrusts losing their rhythm, fingertips digging into muscle, he pulled Dean closer still as he came. 

They stayed like that for an eternity. 

Dean was hyper aware of the come shooting into him, Sam’s dick twitching as he panted and groaned. The grit of the wall against his cheek. Sam’s teeth as they scraped across the sweat on his shoulders. It was cold now.

“I’m going to take such good care of you, Dean.”

It wasn’t over. Dean wanted to cry. 

“I’ve got a place picked out already.” Because of course Sam wouldn’t even give him a choice in where he’d be locked away princess style. “You’ll like it. It’s got a great view. Nice bed. Great shower and bath. Kitchen too if you wanna cook for me.”

Histeria bubbled deep inside, but Dean was still caught under Sam’s dangerous weight so that is where it stayed.

“Couple of guys to make sure you’re safe.”

Make sure he didn’t hightail it out of there.

“I’ll have Beel pick up your stuff and settle your last bills.”

Dean felt his world crumble, and he grasped at straws.

“The club? My friends?” He croaked, subdued and scared.

Sam kissed his cheek, lips stained with the bodypaint and Dean knew if they went back into the club everyone would know what he’d done. What he’d allowed to happen. Sam was wearing a white suit.

“Oh baby. Of course they can come visit. I wouldn’t want to cut you off. Friends are important. I want you to be happy.”

Which is why he’d gotten him drunk and raped him, right? Dean sped straight past denial, anger, bargaining, and depression, and settled on acceptance. This was happening. He nodded. 

“Ok.”

Sam crowed, kissing Dean again and ignoring the dead set of Dean’s eyes. 

“And you can still come to work, of course. You wanna earn a bit of extra spending money. That’s fine. And I’ll be there, watching.”

Dean nodded again. Sure. Why not. 

“Come on.” Sam pulled out, sliding Dean’s short back into place and patting his ass. “Let’s go back inside. Wanna see you dance some more.” 

Wooden, and probably in shock, Dean stepped away from the wall and stumbled towards the door that led to the club. Why not. He was a dancer. Dancers danced.

“Wanna watch my come leaking out fo you while you’re on that pole.”

Dean’s steps stuttered, but Sam’s hand was back on his back again, and he kept walking. Sure. Sure. Why not.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to come yell at me on [tumblr](http://ryugarika.tumblr.com/) ... feel free to, I can take it.
> 
> Comments feed me!
> 
> Check back tomorrow, for ... humiliation! And somehow I turned this one into a nice sweet idea ...


End file.
